


Corky

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Diefenbaker POV, Episode Related, Gen, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diefenbaker's perspective on the events of Eye For An Eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadow2Serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow2Serenity/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Shadow2Serenity!

 

Well, that’s it. That’s just about as much as any wolf can take. My Beta is incorrigible. (That’s one of his words. He says things like ‘incorrigible’ all the time.) And now I’m thinking in parenthesis... oh dear. That one was syntactically incorrect – it wasn’t a subclause, and it contained two sentences rather than –

 

Oh, stop it. As he would say – for God’s sake, I’m an Arctic wolf!

 

Yes, I admit it. I blame my Beta for a lot of things. He’s a walking dictionary, and it’s rubbed off on me. Which is embarrassing for a wolf. We’re supposed to be all ‘grrr’ and fangs and attitude. Yet here I am, checking up on my syntax. It’s no wonder all the other wolves laugh at me. Well, laughed at me. I can’t say I’ve met any wolves in Chicago.

 

At least the dogs think my manner of speech is a charming lupine-Canadian eccentricity –  oh God. See what I mean? That man’s linguistic excesses are contagious – and dammit, there I go again. I have to talk to him about this.

 

But yes, my Beta is really getting above himself. You know, he has the cheek to consider himself the Alpha in this pack! If he’s the Alpha then how come he is the one who feeds me?

 

Yes, I know. When we were in Canada I did bring him back food, but that was entirely by choice – and you have to admit – the food I brought back was rather more interesting than the food he brings me now. Kibble. I mean kibble – what on earth is the man thinking? I’d like to see _him_ eat it.

 

Mind you, he probably would. As our Omega says, “that man will lick anything.” I’m not quite sure why our Omega thinks that is a bad thing – how else are you supposed to know the nature of a thing if you can’t sniff it and can’t lick it? But then, our Omega does have a very impressive nose for a human, so maybe he doesn’t need to lick things to tell what they smell like.

 

Frankly, at the moment I am getting on better with our Omega than I am with my Beta. At least Omega brings food that I enjoy – fresh delights that only Chicago offers. Donuts, hot dogs, slices of pizza.  And although he complains about everything else, at least Omega doesn’t complain about this. Or not much. He knows his position in the pack.

 

Unlike Beta. Who I am going to have to reprimand at some stage. Because –

 

I don’t want to admit this. But – oh, I suppose I have no choice. Discipline in this pack has become so lax that, as a result of Beta’s behaviour, I am wearing a – a – _tamoshanter._

 

“I had no idea it would come to this,” Beta says, looking suitably appalled. Yeah, right. (Oh, good! That’s more like wolf-speak.) What did he expect, leaving me with Gladys? Anyone could smell a mile off that the old harpy thinks I am a pet. And, in recompense for this injury to my dignity (uh oh, that is not wolf-speak) Beta promises me a ‘very nice dog biscuit.’ A dog biscuit! That’s just rude.

 

Yes, I am definitely going to have words with Beta. He doesn’t realise that Omega is right about most things. Perhaps Beta should be demoted and Omega rise in the ranks... no. Then Beta would sulk. Let’s face it, he is an expert in the art of sulking, even though he denies it. And Omega, though he grumbles about it, does seem happy with the status quo. I’m not sure he wants to be promoted. He knows Beta would fall to pieces without him there to lick his wounds when things go wrong.

 

Figuratively. I’m assuming. I’ve never actually seen them licking each other’s wounds.

 

But – seriously –  a tamoshanter. What is wrong with humans?

 

Beta should listen to Omega more. Omega is the expert on the wilderness of Chicago after all. He has been right about everything in this ‘case’ of theirs. But will Beta listen? Oh no. For some reason Beta thought it incumbent upon himself to persuade a neighbourhood of elderly people to form a posse. Again, what was he thinking? Omega knew immediately what a ridiculous notion that was. And Beta forgets that Omega has the right to veto his more outrageous suggestions. Omega ‘called it,’ as the local dogs would say. How did he put it... "Now there's probably hordes of them wandering the streets doing God knows what." And yes, Omega was correct, as so often. Okay, so not exactly hordes of them doing 'God knows what,' but at least one of them.

 

And why did Beta have this urge to stop the old man? If I were a human I would take a baseball bat to an enemy. Fortunately I have teeth for that job, but Chicago being the illogical place it is, apparently the use of teeth in self-defense is frowned upon. I’ve tried explaining the Constitution of the Lupine Fathers to Beta – but as usual he doesn’t listen. Though he may have a point that I would be safer to keep my fangs covered. I am living on alien territory after all, and I am not sure the dogs here have any constitution at all.

 

Be that as it may. As I said before, I have had about as much as a wolf can take. I absolutely refuse to subject myself to human injustices anymore. As if this woollen atrocity of a ‘coat’ that Gladys imposed on me wasn’t bad enough, all of a sudden I have acquired the name ‘Corky.’

 

And a tamoshanter. Did I mention the tamoshanter?

 

The human drama has come to an end, so I no longer have to appease the enemy. And yet, even now Beta tries to impose his will upon me. Gladys – minion of evil that she is – invites us to visit her this Saturday. Or Sunday. Human time keeping is another of their customs that makes no sense. Whether it is one sleep or two sleeps is neither here nor there. The horror is rapidly approaching. She has probably knitted me booties. And Beta – without consulting his Alpha’s opinion by the way –  has the audacity – or I should say ‘cheek’ in wolf-speak – the cheek to agree to the visit.

 

And that is more than I can take.

 

So, I turn and flee. No, this is not cowardice. This is a firm statement that I will not be bullied by my beta anymore –

 

“Well it's just for an hour,” he protests, running up behind me. Not good enough. He has to learn his place. “Alright half an hour!” He’s breathless, but he is saying the right things now - 

 

Wait for it, wait for it –

 

“Alright, ten minutes and then we'll burn the tamoshanter!”

 

That’ll do.


End file.
